Falling Hard
by snowblinded
Summary: A glimpse into Gaara's blog about the fine line between being in love and being obsessed.
1. Entry 1

April 26th

_"Falling Hard"_

I'm in too deep.

As I type these words, on the phone held between my left shoulder and my ear, my boyfriend is telling me about how his life is filled with nothing but greedy assholes (his parents) and selfish brats (his sisters). He told me that he wants to lift some money and two credit cards from his mom, swipe his dad's car keys, and kidnap me so we can run off and live with one another for the rest of our lives. He's crazy. He's absolutely out of his mind to think that we could pull off something like that. He sounds so desperate to run away from our biological families to live a life of pure romance between one another, but I know he won't do it, but this is how we talk. We're obsessed. With each other? With love? With the idea of it? I have no idea, but I love every second of it. I love knowing that my boyfriend will abandon his future just to take care of me, just like he loves knowing that I will easily steal my mother's diamond necklace to pawn to pay off his hospital bills. It's sick, but we're obsessed.

I'm in too deep. I can't get out. I don't know if I want too either. All I know is that this will either come to be the best thing in my life or we will inevitably crash and burn into a zillion pieces of ash. If I told this to my boyfriend, he would come up with some romantic way to say that our ashes will float away in the wind together or some shit like that. It disgusts me. It makes me love him more. What did I just say? I'm in too deep.

Now he's going on about the teachers in school who tell us to stop making out in the middle of the hallway. They say we're not soap opera stars, so there's no need to break into a dramatic staredown as we depart from one another to our respective classes. I told him I agree, but do I? God, I fucking love it when I look into those white moons. It makes me feel like it's night time, like it's a dream, like we're a dream. And I just want to cling to that soft glow forever, but then a calloused hand runs between our loving gazes and tells us to 'skedaddle.' I would do anything to be with him. And I have. I played hooky for classes I had tests in to see him. I lied to my mother at a family dinner and said I have an emergency with a friend. I shed fake tears in front of her, only to dry them up as I walked down the driveway where he was parked with his father's car. I hopped in and we rode down to the park. He pulled me into the back seat which was covered in rose petals, his attempt of trying to make car sex more romantic. I skipped out on the last hour of work for him to take me out to a foreign film and shared vegan cupcakes with him. It's fucked up. I shouldn't be doing any of these things for him. Love is love, but obsession has a line that I've, _we've_ clearly crossed.

I don't have any friends anymore. I abandoned them for Neji. I gave up friendships I've had since I was in fourth grade because they thought I spent too much time with him. They said it was an unhealthy obsession and that Neji was mentally unstable. They said that he did this with all of his exes. I told them to fuck off and I never looked back. I wish I had because I have no one to tell this to but those who are reading this.

Tell me, do you know how to stop drowning when you don't know how to swim? It's difficult unless you can miraculously learn enough to swim to shore. And if you can't, you're dead, right? Will I die? Maybe not exactly, but I'll get pushed to a certain point where I can't come back to normality. Just me sitting in my computer typing this, I see the white of the computer screen and I see Neji's eyes. I look down at the brown desk where it's resting and there's Neji's hair. I can look at a plate of food and see Neji eating whatever is on my plate. I have a feeling many of you reading this are probably thinking, "Oh, it's just puppy love," well, fuck you. Puppy love doesn't make you spend your entire paycheck on a fake ID, a bottle of absinthe, an absinthe spoon, and sugar cubes in one night just because your boyfriend asks you to get some for him because he needs inspiration for his next cockamamie philosophical essay on human behavior. Obsession does. Total and utter dedication to these goddamn voices in my head that tell me to please Neji.

Now a new set of you may be going, "Whoa! What the fuck, man? You're crazy/If you know it's wrong, why haven't you stopped?" I repeat, how do you stop drowning if don't know how to swim? Right now, I can't swim. I'm pathetically attempting to wade and breathing in more water every fucking minute. I can't stop. I can't stop loving him no matter what I do. I try to pull away from him when he tries to kiss me in front of the homophobic principal, but then that soft hand touches my face and there we are, swapping spit with the man glaring at us. We get detentions, but we sit right next to each other on that Saturday morning, using our secret code to tell each other messages. We walk out of the school hand in hand with the principal looking at us, ready to write us up again, and it doesn't matter to either of us. We're still going to go back to my house and recite love poems we made up as we touch each other. Are you nauseated enough? I'm telling you the truth though. We're so infatuated with one another that I don't think we live in reality anymore.

Neji once called me five minutes after one of our first dates and told me how much he missed me. It was our fourth date. That should have been a sign that this was wrong, that he had to have a screw loose to fall so fast for me, and yet I smiled and told him I missed him too. Why? I don't think I did miss him. But do you know what I did miss about him? The way he looked at me. The way his eyes watched my hands as they lifted my soda can to my lips or how I ran my fingers through my hair. How he held my hands as he taught me how to properly swing the mini golf club without sending my ball into the water. His smile against my ear and the way he said 'beautiful.' He said it after a lot of the things I did that I thought were awkward or embarrassing. It made me feel great about myself and to get that call saying that he missed me blinded me to reality. He wanted me so bad and as a result, I wanted him just as bad.

I went on a vacation with my family to the next state over for a week. I gave Neji my cell number to call me if he missed me or needed to talk to me. He called every day, sometimes as much as four times a day. I called back on times I missed him. He left messages saying how his heart felt so empty without me around, that the distance was killing him, that I needed to be with him every day. I repeated his words back immediately. How could I _not_ miss a romantic man like that? He sounded like he was falling into a depression without me. I was happy. I was glad that he felt like the world was collapsing without me. There's no better feeling than knowing that someone's happiness resides on you. Then when you're are the point that I am, you realize, there's something wrong knowing that someone's happiness resides on you.

One night, I got a call at three in the morning from him. Neji asked me if I ever felt like I was suffocating without him around. I asked him what he meant. He said, '_I think of you like air. I need you to survive. I need you with me at all times. Without you, I'd asphyxiate. Without you, I'm a corpse_.' And instead of saying he was a psychotic, I pegged him as a hopeless romantic like I was. A guy who liked to dramatize his love and boy, was that a dramatic confession.

I am a hopeless romantic, but Neji turned me into an obsessive romantic. If I'm not working or doing schoolwork, I'm looking up love stories to compare our relationship to. I'm daydreaming about our lives as husband and husband with a nice house and children. Sometimes I find myself making little trinkets and gifts for him or compiling love songs to burn onto a cd, then record onto tape. When I'm by myself, it becomes all about missing Neji and when I'm with him, it's all about us. This point is further proven by this entire entry I'm writing. I could have written about anything else. I could have written about my mother's impending engagement to this man I barely know or my sister's constant fights with my brother over cleaning up the bathroom or the fact that I'm failing this school year from spending so much time with Neji. Instead, I'm writing about him because he's all that matters right now. I don't want it to be like this. This isn't love. This is addiction and it's eating at me from the inside.

I don't want to give him up though. After being treated like such a fucking God, who will I meet that can treat me the same? Who would be willing drop everything to massage my feet after work with a simple phone call? Or who could ever spend their Christmas money buying my favorite expensive hair care products? Most importantly, who would be able to come over at whatever hour of the night and cradle and comfort me when I have nightmares about my father's car accident? I can't imagine anyone but Neji doing it.

Do people hold love interventions? I could use one now. Someone to grab me by the wrists and shout at me, tell me how big of a mistake I'm making by holding onto this poison. My friends didn't stick around as tough as they should have, so I need strangers to drag me away from the situation that I enabled.

Neji just told me he's coming over my house, so I have to end this here. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know that this can't last any longer. I'm going to burst. Whether it's an all out mental breakdown and throwing myself at him with all my might or ending this before he literally makes us run away together, I hope it turns out alright. I do not want a Romeo and Juliet ending.

- Gaara Sabaku

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**A/N**: I'm semi considering making this a brief series, but I like it as it is. If you think otherwise, let me know in the reviews. Thanks for reading.


	2. Entry 2

April 27th

Obsessive Love Disorder: The state in which one person feels an overwhelming obsessive desire to possess another person toward whom they feel a strong attraction, with an inability to accept failure or rejection. (Thanks, Wikipedia.)

I'm not obsessive. I know last entry I said I was. No, I'm an obsessive lover, but I'm not obsessive. I think about Neji all the time, but I do not initiate the obsessive behaviors. Neji approaches me with love letters and gifts. I reciprocate them, but I am not the first person to hand over the gift. This is important. This should be the sign that I am not as in love as I thought I was. Other than a holiday and his birthday, never once have I given a gift solidary of the reason other then feeling like I need to repay Neji back for his. A lot of couples don't exchange gifts, but a lot of couples also don't shoplift from a store every so often because they were too broke from handing their paycheck over to their boyfriend to pay for his medical bills, just in order to be able to get a smile on your boyfriend's face the next morning.

I mentioned medical bills last time too. Neji, he has a therapist. I don't know if it was of his own choice or suggested by his uncle. I do know that the outcome of the therapist is pretty hefty since he prescribes meds. What those are, I don't know either. Neji doesn't like to talk about them. He scratched the labels off the orange tubes the one time he caught me trying to read the names. All I remember was there were a lot of those little tubes. Some were empty, some were full, some were in the garbage can beside the desk. Then he moved the tubes away the next time I came by. With that many pills, I don't even want to know what's really wrong with him.

My friends say he's obsessive. Is he? Or am I? Or is he possessive? Or expressive... of his feelings? Disregard that last sentence. I shouldn't be attempting to be poetic about something actually serious here.

I guess the point I'm coming up to would be to explain what happened last night and the ordeal that has since followed me throughout the day.

6:00am: I never got to fall asleep. After last night, I couldn't get myself into the REM cycle. I blankly stared at the ceiling unconsciously until my alarm went off and brought me back to reality, a reality I didn't even want to deal with.

I got out of bed and immediately saw the envelope sitting on my desk. A lavender one with a floral perfume with my name scribbled in black ink. It was the letter Neji walked in with. The same one I knew I wasn't going to open. I don't think I had the right to open it after last night. It was probably just another love letter. It was always a love letter. Some proclamation of adoration and servitude he'd give me for the rest of our natural born lives.

I left it there and got changed, purposely skipping the vegan-leather motorcycle jacket Neji bought me that I wore just about everyday. It was a symbol of his possession of me. I wanted to be free of it. Grabbing my backpack and a different jacket, I strolled out of my food, grabbed breakfast, and went on my way to school.

There were many things different with school today as I stepped into it. First off, I didn't smell the usual aroma of vanilla Neji would spritz on his neck and chest. It was another way he'd garnered my love. I was a sucker for vanilla and I was perfect height level to get the sweetest whiff of that beautiful spray he used. Without Neji, school smelt like an actual school. Grown boy B.O., cat and dog hair pilled sweaters, bleached floors, and the slightest hint of syrup from people's breakfasts. Somehow, Neji made all those disgusting smells disappear along with other things I've seemed to lack noticing. Posters from the fall had converted to their spring editions, advertising prom queen and kings and cheering on seniors to get good grades and graduate. The last time I looked at a poster, it was screaming about the first football game. How lost in the loop was I?

The dent in Naruto's locker had been long fixed, my former crush cut his hair short, and just walking down the hallway of the school felt like a new experience. This whole time with Neji, it was like I was looking through the bottom of a glass. Everything was morphed and magical, hiding the details that was supposed to be my current life. It was... almost bland without the filter. Everything seemed so sterile from the bleak beige walls and the flat blue lockers and the oatmeal floors. The people that I'd grown up with were so different now that I saw their faces. And believe me, I saw every single face.

I was being stared at. By everyone. I don't know if they stared at me before with Neji, but they were definitely staring at me now. Every pair of eyes trailed me down the hall until I reached my locker. A locker neighbor took a double look at me and bolted, leaving their friends in hysterics as they crept away too. I didn't know what was happening, but I wanted it stop. Today was going to be enough of a hassle, I didn't need their additional bullshit. I grabbed my books and went off to first period, math. I was stared at too, people chuckling and whispering to one another. When did I become a star?

I tried to ignore it and tried to focus on last night's homewor- _Fuck_, I thought. I had left my math book in Neji's locker. I always left it in his locker. It gave me an excuse to go see after I got the rest of my books, just like he leaves his biology notebook on my bottom shelf. I didn't even have my homework to hand in. I didn't have a book to follow the lesson.

"Gaara," a voice called for me. I looked up to see Naruto, one of my old friends, math book in his hands. My math book. I could tell by the skull stickers I stuck on the front cover.

I reached out for it and said, "Thanks, but how'd you-?"

"I got it from Neji. I was coming down the hall and he just said to give it to you." The blond rolled his eyes, mumbling lowly, "As if that dickwad hadn't done a goddamn thing..."

"What was that again?" I asked.

Naruto's body twitched, maybe not realizing that I had heard what he said. He looked at the few people by us. They looked away when Naruto's eyes met theirs, though their whispers were still going on. He reached into his pocket, being careful not to let the teacher see him pulling out his cellphone. "There was this mass text last night," the blond quietly told me. "And..." He started clicking things on his phone and slid it across the desk under my nose. Naruto frowned, face turning red. "I'm sorry..."

Did I want to look? Of course. If it was the reason I was being stared at, I definitely needed to know. I regret that choice. I regret it so much.

I saw myself. It wasn't a camera app or my reflection in the phone's screen, it was me. Naked. Legs spread. Dick thrust inside of me.

Neji liked to take pictures of me during and after sex. It weirded me out at first, especially because I was a virgin before Neji. On top of being scared of the pain, I had to worry about a camera taking snaps of my disappearing innocence? It was too much. After I made it through the first and second time, I got used to the camera's eye on me. A voyeur fetish I suppose. It would be me and Neji, touching each other, biting, licking, all alone in this dark chamber. This was private moment for us. We'd whisper all these dirty thoughts we had to each other, usually with me being the shyest. I would be pushed down onto the soft bed, watching Neji crawled all over me, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew there was a camera. The peeping tom, watching every little kiss, every stray finger entering places my mother would disapprove of. It was scary, but absolutely thrilling at the same time. In the beginning, Neji would whisper, 'Don't be shy, Gaara.' _Snap._ 'The camera won't say anything.' _Snap_. His voice would dip a pitch lower, lips pressed against my ear. 'Trust me.' _Snap._

I trusted him. That trust now was broken. He had exposed me, literally.

I sat through math class, not focused on homework, not focused on the kids giggling around me, but on my shame. I had broken a heart last night. As spiteful revenge, Neji sent out personal photos that was meant for only us. How could he? How could he after he said he loved me so much? He was obsessed! Wouldn't that mean caring about how _I _ felt? Caring about _everything_ about me? Why would he share something that he treasured so much to everyone in school?

I broke down in class. When my teacher asked 'what's wrong?,' I cried even harder. Those eyes that had been locked on me shifted the opposite direction. Avoidance. It's all fun and games until the kid you're making fun of cries. Then suddenly you're the victim of guilt. Assholes. Naruto came over to me and suggested taking me down to the guidance office to the teacher. He allowed it and Naruto wrapped an arm around me, leading me out.

We never went to the office. We pushed open the side exit door by the art room two halls down and sat in the weird alleyway where the janitor left the dirty mops. He watched me cry, doing nothing but holding my hand and offering me his shoulder to lean on. I felt two sorts of guilt. First being that I allowed Neji to take such shots of me and the second was disregarding my friends the way I did for Neji. Why? How could I let him reign all importance over the guys I grew up with? Naruto didn't have to be in the gritty alley with me. He didn't even have to give me my math book back or show me the reason for the looks. A friend. A true fucking friend.

My eyes hurt from crying so much, so I'm going to brief this down in a few sentences. I sobbed, I apologized to Naruto for being a class A dick, we skipped the next period, then snuck out from the alley way, and he led me back home. He let me have my space which I appreciated. We parted ways and here I am, typing it all up.

I still haven't opened that letter. I may just burn it.

- Gaara Sabaku


	3. Entry 3

April 28th

Twenty-eight voicemails on my cellphone by the end of yesterday, all from Neji.

Thirteen of them were about me, how much he loved me, how he would do anything for me, the typical spouts of total and utter love.

Eight of them were incoherent ramblings about how much like shit he felt for doing what he did to me, apologizing, seeking forgiveness, and describing how weak he felt with me by his side.

Six of them countered the apologies, saying how I deserved it. I was an asshole, a bitch, a heart manipulator. That if I didn't get back together with him, he was prepared to make my life a living hell. That if he couldn't have me, no one could.

One was just the sound of him crying for a few minutes and a dull click.

The last one was a threat of suicide. He was ready to kill himself over losing me. He said he'll slit his throat unless I come back to him.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't. And as stupid and idiotic as it was, I had to see him. One in the morning when I got that message, I pulled on a jacket and snuck out of my house, dashing down the block for him. My head was screaming at me to turn around. Stay away, stay away! My heart wouldn't let that message reach my feet. I wanted to see Neji, hold him, kiss him, love him. Logic stuck a wedge inbetween my loving ways. If I go back to him, I would be enabling him further. But if I didn't see him at least, there would be a lifeless body in his house with my name on it. I loved him. I hated him. I didn't know.

I was at his bedroom window at one-seventeen. I leaned down to the ground and pressed my ear against the window, trying to hear if he was still awake/alive. I heard music. A good sign so far. I knocked on the door with our special code. I used it whenever I snuck out of my house to have a quickie or just to talk about my life with Neji. Our little secret. I waited a few seconds, ear still by the window to listen for any sign of life. There was a shuffle and a clatter and then a wave of hot air met the side of my face.

"Gaara?" I heard Neji say, almost surprised I was there. I turned to look at him.

Red on his throat.

I reached out for it, thinking it was too late, but it smelt familiar as my fingers touched it. It wasn't warm. It was cold and watery. Paint. Neji took my hand from his neck and held it, pressing it against his cheek, softly smiling. "You came for me," he whispered, shutting his eyes and kissing my fingers with those feather light lips. I felt the butterflies in my stomach fluttering incessantly from the touch. It was the comfort I became so used to, the fragile way Neji treated my body. Like I was porcelain, he cradled me with such care. I wanted those pink-lipped kisses to trail up my arm until it reached my own set of lips.

No. I was there to make sure he was alive, that was it.

"Why?" I asked.

His lips stopping moving against my hand. His moon eyes gazed into mine, confused. "Why 'what?'"

The way he said it pissed me the fuck off. Like he hadn't sent my body out to the entire school hours ago. I ripped my hand from his and tried my best not to scream in his face so I didn't wake up his family. "Why did you send those pictures to everyone?" I harshly whispered. "You promised it'd stay between us."

That look of absolute love in his eyes quickly melted away into something darker. His hand reached out for mine again, gripping it hard. "'Why?'" He repeated my words. I felt the pressure of his nails digging into my skin although I still tried to fight back the hold he had on me. I let out a whimper of pain, listening to him say, "You promised we'd be together forever, you bitch." My hand felt warm. Little lines of warmth traveling down my hand. I looked away from the window down to our hands. I saw red. Not paint. Real blood.

I let out a louder cry as his nails started to rake down my hand. "You promised. _Forever_," he reiterated with a harder scratch.

It was the worst pain I've ever felt. It was even worse to look at. How white his knuckles turned as he held my hand tighter. My bones felt like they were going to snap under his hold. The three nails trailed down the red pathway, ignoring my sobs. "Let go, let go, let go." I begged over and over again. I tried to yank my hand away, but he countered with a hard claw.

"I _love _ you, Gaara. I'll do _anything_ for you," he confessed. It wasn't his usual dreamy confession when he locked eyes onto mine, kissed my neck, and breathed in my hair like it was his form of aromatherapy. It was crazed, like a feral creature. He hissed the words, emphasizing 'love' and 'anything' with deeper scratches, more blood. Those once innocent eyes were hardened like diamonds. No mercy or concern. I wasn't porcelain he feared to scratch. I was the teacup he intended to break.

If you're wondering why I didn't punch him or kick him and run, this is the way the window is set up. His window is ground level, just big enough for my little body to slide in and out of. In the position I was in, most of my body was on the ground, my arm trapped in the small window inside of his room, unable to get up. I couldn't reach my other arm in because he would have just grabbed it and did the same thing. If I stuck my leg in, he would have just dragged me inside. I was trapped either way. I had to lie there and take it until he chose to stop. Or until I said those words he wanted to hear. I wouldn't say them. I couldn't if I wanted to. The pain had stolen all my words away.

I don't know how long he had been at it. My nerves had become numb at some point. I only cried because I felt weak, powerless, vulnerable. I was succumbed to his will by a silly window. And I hated myself for coming to see him. I still hate myself. So. very. much.

I winced when I felt his tongue lick at the wounds he inflicted. Every drop of blood was disappearing into his mouth, lapping it up like a fucking puppy with a water bowl. He was so eager to consume the essence of me. I knew the way his head worked. It was his way of making me a part of him. He didn't need to tell me. I already knew. He already knew I knew. His eyes just trailed up my pale arms to my lifeless ones. I didn't feel anything. If anything, I felt light-headed...

I woke up today in the hospital, right hand bandaged with a pack of blood being pumped into my body by IV. My family were right by my bed side. Turns out Neji's nails broke an artery, so I passed out from lack of blood. I don't know how I made it to the hospital though. My best guess is that Neji took my unconscious body, stuffed it into his car, and dumped me outside of the hospital building. I doubt he'd call 911 to show up in front of his house at one in the morning with his ex bleeding out on his front lawn. The nurses took my contact information from my cellphone and called my mother. They all showed up at around three a.m. and had been waiting around for me since.

They started asking questions, specifically about Neji. The day we broke up... well, it wasn't pretty, much like earlier this morning, but I'll save that for another entry. Kankuro had heard all of it. Kankuro told Temari the day it happened. Temari told mother yesterday. Mother was ready with her phone to call police to haul Neji's ass into jail by today. Before she did that, they wanted to talk to me first. They hadn't had a chance until I was temporarily settled into the hospital.

They want a restraining order on him. They want to take him to court for harming me and get him arrested. Maybe even institutionalized, using vague story I gave them as evidence. I told them that Neji threatened to kill himself. I lied and said I said something to him to set him off and the scratching from because of that, not because he wants to own my entire entity of a human. I discouraged them from taking action to their shock. To my shock too. The point of the break up was to get away from him and the restraining order would keep him away, but only by a legal reason. Law won't apply to him in his head. He's far gone to care about trivial things like rules.

He wants what he wants and he wants me. All of me. And he'll do whatever he needs to do to have me. He'll do _anything_ for me... and I fear what 'anything' extends to.

- Gaara Sabaku

P.S., my hand needs to heal, so I won't be updating for a few days. Hurts just typing all of this.


	4. Entry 4

May 2nd

My hand still stings, so I'm very slowly typing with my left hand. My job gave me the week off seeing as my hands are important when it comes to stocking shelves. I work at a book store, one of those big name chains. I don't really want to disclose what one it is since I already have my full name on this blog, but its nice enough to offer health insurance, something I needed after seeing the hospital bill by the end of my visit.

Since my left hand is shit, I can't go into great detail about the last couple days, though it's been surprisingly mellow after the melodrama of Thursday with Neji.

On the 28th, I didn't receive any calls from him. None. My invoice was zip, nada, zilch. Is it fucked that I was hurt by this? I just had a fat knot in my stomach when I came home to absolutely no messages. When we were dating and I sliced my arm with a hard edged book at work, I texted Neji about it and came home to three different messages asking if I was okay. I nearly die on his front lawn now and he doesn't even bother to see that I came out of it alive. My ego was bruised like a bad apple.

The 29th, I sat in bed all day. Thinking. Waiting. Thinking. Losing my goddamn mind. Thinking. Neji, Neji, Neji. Still not one call. My phone was set to the highest ringtone setting, lying on my bedside table. Waiting. Thinking. Waiting. Neji, Neji, Neji.

Kankuro came in to check up on me during the day. I barely left my room for anything but food and drink and the bathroom, the phone on my hip the entire time. I wasn't leaving with out it on my person. What if he called? Why did I care? He mauled my hand until I reached near death and yet I was waiting on his call like I was the one who was obsessed with him. Kankuro tried to confiscate my phone when he asked why I kept looking at it. I fought back, at least until he pinched my bad hand. I had to let go of the phone. Not because Kankuro said so, but because waiting for something that wasn't going to happen was unhealthy. I broke up from something unhealthy, so I needed to rinse out the rest of the junk blocking my head.

The first to go into the trash can was that stupid vegan-leather jacket. It was also the hardest to toss. It smelt like him. Vanilla. It was inside the jacket, outside of it, in the sleeves, and I wanted to put it on and never take it off again. There were too many memories woven into its faux leather grain, like picking up gluten-free vegan cupcakes to share with one another, until we read the card on the box and it said 'vegetarian.' I remember laughing when Neji tried to spit it out. Then I remembered the burn on my wrist from grabbing me and telling me to stop. I did and he apologized and kissed my wrists, walking us back to the bakery to pick up a new batch. It took me half an hour to will myself to throw it out. After it settled in the black plastic bag, the rest of the things he given me followed suit. Love letters, personal cards, photographs of us together, little knick knacks like toys and novelty items, poetry and stories, drawings, and the one painting he made me.

An 18 inch by 20 inch portrait, myself cast as Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. My red hair was longer around the time we started dating, so it was longer in the painting, skimming the bottom of my neck. My back was to the viewer, head to the side to catch one eye. I held a white sheer sheet of cotton behind, draping down to reveal everything but the very top of my bottom. A floral crown was cast around my head with other nude admirers around me like a true Renaissance painting. The setting was by the sea, I standing on a pink scallop shell, others lounging on the sand, on smaller rocks. Doves and sparrows fly around me, the pillar of true beauty and love. And everyone loves me. Except for Neji.

I snapped the frame in half, took a leftover steak knife from my dinner plate, and sliced right down the center, down the center of the painted version of I. And I cried. Tear after tear in frustration and passion and sorrow. What the hell was wrong with me?

The 30th, Naruto and Lee came by to see me. They brought me snacks to nibble on thankfully. Thankfully because they started to hound me about Neji and after the night I had before, I was cramming those snacks down my throat so I'd be too preoccupied chewing to not answer them. They got the message after I stuffed four chocolate truffles into my mouth when Naruto asked if I still loved Neji after what happened. If I didn't have chocolate melting into the ridges of my mouth, I wouldn't know what to answer. And I still don't know. I have no clue. I spent the rest of the day watching random music videos on my laptop and reading comics and books. Anything to keep myself off of the subject I wanted to avoid. I was up until two in the morning reading when my mother came in to tell me to go to sleep. I didn't tell her I haven't slept a wink for the past three days.

Yesterday, after a whole morning of old tv show reruns, Kankuro finally returned my cellphone and told me I had a text. The number wasn't in my contact list, but it was asking about my wellbeing, so he assumed it was a friend whose number I hadn't marked down. After he left the room, I went to my inbox and checked. I didn't recognize the number it was sent from. It just asked, 'Are you okay?'

I texted back, 'Who are you?'

Almost immediately I got back, 'Neji.'

Almost immediately I tried to call him. He never picked up and I never texted him back about it.

I was finally starting to feel a bit better. Just the littlest bit and _now_ he cared how I was?! It had been four fucking days! What the fuck is he playing at?! He can't just up and go from loving me, to hating me, to caring about me, to all of the bullshit he's doing. Is this his revenge? Playing these fucking mental head games with me? He's sick. He's so sick in the head I couldn't even begin to describe it. He's playing at my last nerve and he could tell. I know he could. He knows everything about me...

I tried to call again today, but the number was disconnected. I don't know why I did it. I don't understand myself. I don't get anything anymore. What was I going to say anyway? '_Hey, I know I broke up with you and I went to your house to see you didn't kill yourself and you clawed me like a scratching post and I was hospitalized and you never called to see how I was doing, I was just wondering, how come_?'

God. Maybe I should be the one institutionalized. I don't understand how my brain works anymore.

- Gaara Sabaku

EDIT: Naruto just sent me a text to a website link. Turns out someone took those photos of me and made a website. I want to die. I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I wish Neji had killed me. At least I would have died in some fucked up lovesick mindset than wanting to off myself from the embarrassment. Why is my life such shit?

EDIT 2: Naruto told me he's sending report to the website's host for it to be taken down for child pornography. Although I don't like being called a child, it will have to do. I want them down right now.

EDIT 3: 05/04/13 I didn't want to include this in my other entries, but the pictures were taken down by the 3rd. Someone who saved the photos tried to do the same thing on another website, so it too was taken down. Since then, I haven't seen any other photos of me, but I don't want to know who else has seen or saved them. People are fucked up.


	5. Entry 5

May 3rd

I went back to school today. Much like the first day after I broke up with Neji, everyone was staring at me. Was it about the photos? The website? Or the off-white gauze wrapped around my hand with brown, dried blood stains? I'm leaning towards the injured hand with a close follow up of the website. I bet they thought I tried to kill myself. Why else would I have gauze wrapped around my wrist? (Never mind the fact that most of the gauze is around the real offending wound on my hand. Idiots.) No one asked about it though, something I'm very happy about. They knew to stay away from my business after they saw my 'business.'

What I personally wanted to know was why is everyone focused on me when Neji was the one who sent out the photos. Why did no one say anything to him? I'm the victim, so why was he left alone?

I saw Neji today in the hallway when I came in. I wanted to walk up to him. I had a reason to. I had his biology notebook. He hadn't come back for it since we broke up. Until today.

It was around third period, my history class, his biology class. I glared down at the green-covered, three subject notebook at the bottom of my locker and shut the door. White eyes popped out from behind it, scaring the absolute piss out of me. He stared down at me, hands in his gray jacket pockets like he was waiting for me to do something. He made no move or sound to tell me what. At least until I remembered about his biology class. I awkwardly turned back to my locker and unlocked it, a little sketched that he still did nothing but stare at me. No love in the eyes, no crazy in the body language, nothing. Just blank. I pulled the door open and squatted, picking up the sticky-noted book. 'N & G' in a heart on a bright green note. I looked away as I handed it up to him.

"Thanks," I heard him say. There was a crumble of paper and the sound of feet leaving. I looked down beside me and saw the green note balled up. That was our relationship. Trash.

Didn't have a chance to thank him for my math book.

The rest of the day was a blur of normality. Classes, being stared at, being whispered about, being openly mocked for being a 'faggot' (wonder what their first clue was, the fact that I was playing tonsil hockey with Neji in the hallways or just the dick pics), and catching up with _everything_ with my friends that I had missed. Lee finally got with Sakura, this girl he's had a crush on since kindergarten basically. Naruto lost his virginity with some girl that worked at his favorite ramen shop the next town over. He's thinking of asking her out next week since he really liked her to begin with. And Choji, the usually porkier guy, had been on a diet and exercise plan for the past couple of months. He lost thirty pounds so far and it was showing. And me... well, I had to catch Choji up on the whirlwinds of post-breakup Neji. And my mom's engagement to that douchenozzle I'm supposed to be calling 'dad' eventually.

They were all looking at each other with looks that I didn't quite understand. They briefly skimmed over Neji, but instead asked questions about the douchenozzle. I appreciated it. So, so much.

In case you're wondering about douchenozzle, his name is Gregory. I mean, I guess he's nice enough, but I feel like he tries way too hard to make my mother happy and to get us on his side. It's brown-nosing to the extreme basically. I don't even think he has a backbone because he just listens to my mother like a child rather than a man. He doesn't live in our house, not yet. He also has son from a previous marriage, Matthew, so I'll also be getting a step-brother. Matthew is alright, just annoying. He's two years younger than me, a freshman.

Shit. I just realized there's a chance he could have gotten the text with the link to my photos or the direct photos themselves. I fucking hope not. I _really_ hope not.

I finished up my classes and went back home. I plopped my butt onto my desk chair to type all of this out, just to get it out of the way. Now that we're done with the general summation of my boring day, I think it's about time for a story since I don't have anything else to talk about. I will call it,

The Day I Met Neji

(since you commenters won't get off my back about how I found this kid in the first place)

Once upon a time, there was a redhead boy named Gaara Sabaku, a little tyrant with a fondness for children's books. As a worker for (insert a big chain name book store here), he had employee discount privileges for books. Once or twice a month on one of his days off, he'd come into the store, looking for the newest releases of children's books. He loved to flip through the big, colorful pages and relive those days of his childhood, sitting on his father's lap and struggling to read certain words out loud. His childhood days had long past though, now a teenager of sixteen years old (his birthday was in late August), and on route to becoming an adult one awful high school year at a time.

On this particular day, Gaara was lounging in the children's section of the store, butt on a tiny yellow chair, feet propped on a red one. A little kid stole the blue one he had his book resting on, so he had to set up at the table. Some of the other kids grew uncomfortable with the grown boy sitting with them and they moved to another table away from him. This pleased Gaara. It was difficult to enjoy the book when he had the kids nagging about 'you're old, why are you reading these books?' and other bullshit like that.

He was on his lunch break, stuffing a peanut butter and fluff sandwich into his mouth and flipping through an old 'Rainbow Fish' book when a shadow loomed over him. Typically, a normal kid's shadow would not even graze a speck of darkness, so it was probably an adult. Maybe his boss. In that case, he had to inhale that sandwich and get back to work.

Gaara looked up expecting an angry black-haired woman glaring down at him, not a young adult around his age that surprisingly didn't look all that bad. He had long brown hair in a loose braid draped over his shoulder with a leather strap holding it in place. There was a shirt of almost sheer, white cotton covering his torso, the neckline showing off some very biteable collarbones (Gaara may or may have not had a collarbone fetish (don't judge)) and plain baggy khaki shorts over his legs. He was lost where the purple Tom's connected to the rest of the rather bohemian get up, but Gaara was digging it. Especially those curious white eyes that gazed his way and asked, "I was wondering if you...?"

He wasn't listening. He was focused on the moon orbs in his view. Were they contacts? They couldn't have been. But they also looked strangely familiar.

"Excuse me?" The voice asked. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," Gaara answered. He didn't hear him. Not at all.

A smile spread across the boy's face. "Great, so you'll help me look for some Edward Gorey books?"

If he kept smiling like that, "Sure."

The boy said, "Thanks...erm..." He leaned in towards Gaara to check out his name tag. "Gaara."

Gaara wanted him to say his name again. No. He had to focus on accomplishing the task. As his feet stood on their own (completely forgetting about that delicious fluff sandwich) and began to move, he forgot the author's name. He turned back to the brunet who scoped the children's book shelves for his author. He didn't want to sound like an idiot, but he asked, "Who was it that you were looking for again?"

The brunet looked up from the shelves. "Edward Gorey. G-O-R-E-Y." He hobbled over to the left of the shelf, saying, "See, Edward Gorey wrote a lot of children's books, but they're not exactly childlike, you know? Macabre is the best way to describe his work. Light with some darkness to it, just like real life. Instead of giving kids those special feelings in their guts like everything is sunshine and butterflies and shooting stars, his books are made to look child-friendly, but carry that black humor spice that a young adult can enjoy. Like his most popular book is 'The Gashleycrumb Tinies.' It's basically an alphabet book, but instead of 'apple, bee, carrot,' it depicts children dying using the letters as the child's name." The boy looked up from the shelf and asked, "Cool, right? Not your everyday sort of child's book."

Before Gaara could even give an opinion, he was cut off by the boy. "And since it's not exactly children-friendly per se, it doesn't _exactly_ belong in the children's section, but they're not really novels either, so it wouldn't go in the regular reading section. Maybe the humorous books or comics, but I don't really know. I don't work here. What do you think?"

Gaara waited a few seconds. He didn't want to open his mouth just to be cut off. The white eyes stared up at him, awaiting his answer.

"Well, his work definitely sounds interesting," he started. It did, though he wasn't sure how much he'd enjoy reading about kids dying. He liked children's books because they were happy and positive and 'shooting stars.' If he wanted a dose of real life, he'd read normal books. Regardless, he wanted that boy to be happy when he left. "If he's not in the children's section, then he's probably in comics or humor." Gaara walked up to the entrance of the children's section and turned to the right. "Down this way if you want me to show you..."

The boy walked up with him and said, "Oh no, I know where the comic section is, thanks."

That was it. He wasn't helpful anymore if the boy knew where the comics and humor were. He had to wave the white flag and give up. And before he even got the boy's name? Gaara was pretty pissed off, not like he was going to show it though. He put on a polite smile and said, "You're welcome," and walked to the left of the children's section. He had to punch back onto company time and get back to work then.

As he began to walk away, he heard feet moving behind him. He assumed it was other customers looking around and continued on his way to the employees only room. He weaved through the young adult section into the fantasy books and out by the in-store cafe when he stopped completely. A load of weight hit his back, knocking him to the floor. Gaara wasn't happy. Not at all. He got up on his knees and turned to yell at the asshole tailing him when he saw it was the brunet boy from earlier. Was he the feet following him?

The boy started to stand and asked, "So, I know I don't know where humor is, but I don't think it's by the cafe. Though I kind of want a coffee now. Do they have vegan creamers here?"

Gaara stared up at the brunet boy, incredibly confused. "Huh?"

"Vegan creamer, you know, not real dairy milk, preferably soy milk? I don't eat dairy. Also, do you know anything about their desserts? There's probably egg and honey in them and I don't eat eggs or honey either. Maybe I shouldn't be even considering getting a snack here, I mean, I'm trying to find a book. Oh yeah, what I was talking about, humor isn't over here, wouldn't be elsewhere, like in the front or something? Or are you-?"

"You talk a lot, don't you?" Gaara cut him off. No, that was an understatement. He talked a lot _and_ talked fast. The redhead didn't mind hearing some things about the boy, after all, he thought he was cute, but if this was the way he normally spoke...

The brunet blushed and rubbed his hands together, saying, "Oh no, no, I don't really talk that much it's just I... uh, it's sort of a nervous habit to be pumping out the words at like seventy miles per hour."

"Nervous about what?" Gaara asked.

The boy started listing things off, "Examples, being asked to hold a newborn baby, having to be careful with something fragile, being around cute people, running around with scissors pointed upward, you get the idea, right?"

"Being around..." Gaara felt himself flush. 'Being around cute people.' That was the only reason applicable to now. The way the boy blushed after he finished his sentence, that meant it had to be the truth. Fuck. A cute boy calling him cute. This was a blessing. The universe was granting him a moment of happiness and he was not going to waste it. He cleared his throat and nervously stuttered, "Uhm, uh, yeah, the, uh, humor is up front and um, I came back here to punch back in. Give me a minute, please?"

The boy nodded and Gaara slowly backed away from him, trying to keep eye contact with the pale-eyed boy until he reached the 'employees only' door. He zipped down the hall and into the room faster than he ever had before, quickly punched his card back, and ran back down the hall. He stopped before the door to fix his shirt and hair and walked out as if he hadn't been primping himself for the boy.

He smiled at the brunet and lead him to the humor section, exchanging proper names with him. Neji Hyuuga, age seventeen, junior in high school like Gaara was, a vegan for five years, an artist since birth. And no, they were his real eyes. This Neji guy, Gaara liked him. He liked him a lot, especially when he wasn't shooting words too fast to comprehend. He spoke with a smooth, melodic voice, taking his time to pick out proper words for his sentences, a thinker. When he spoke about art, the tone was light and airy, a dreamer. He was someone multifaceted, intelligent and creative. Even a bit weird for his taste in books, but Gaara liked it. He was so peculiar compared to his many other crushes. That was probably what Gaara needed. Change. Someone a little different and Neji would become the difference in his life.

The humor section didn't have any Edward Gorey, nor did the comics. They checked the computer and there had been books in the humor, though they'd been sold.

"Seriously?" Neji huffed, leaning over Gaara's shoulder to look at the screen. The redhead fought the blood rushing to his face from the proximity. He felt the boy's breath in his ear ask, "You wouldn't happen to know any other book stores that could possibly have him, would you?"

Yes, he did. "Margo's, on the corner of Brooklyn & 5th, by the Dunkin Donuts. Margo's is one of those darker book stores with lots of fantasy, sci-fi, horror, etc. Might be there."

Neji backed away from Gaara and walked around him, leaning on the post the computer was connected to. He sheepishly smiled and said, "I'm not sure where Dunkin Donuts is. I've only been there once." He rolled his eyes downward and nibbled at his bottom lip, asking, "Is there a chance you could show me the store... sometime?"

Gaara's eyes widened and he nodded as soon as it registered. Neji wanted to hang out with him. Holy shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit. There was a celebration in his head so loud that he was sure that his metaphoric ear drums would burst. They're be a waterfall of blood flowing down his metaphorical ears, but he wouldn't care. A boy wanted to hang with him. A boy that thought he was cute. This day could have not been any better.

Neji grinned, almost surprised Gaara agreed. "Really? Wow, okay, uhm, can I get your number and I'll text you so you get mine?"

Gaara surprisingly rambled off his number correctly despite the fact that his mind felt blank. The phone in his pocket vibrated, so he took it out. There was the number. He quickly saved it as 'Neji' and looked back at the brunet boy across from him.

The boy shyly smiled and said, "So, uhm, text me the next day you have off. We can meet here. I have a car, sooo... yeah." He reached down for Gaara's hand and gently squeezed it. Gaara's body temperature shot up five hundred degrees. The brunet's hands were so fucking soft and warm, like a toasty mitten. "So, I'll see you, Gaara," Neji murmured.

"S-see you, Neji," he almost whispered back.

* * *

And that was how I, Gaara, met Neji. It's so weird how my hard shell was broken down by just looking at him. I'm not a blushing sort of person. Or at least maybe I am in a relationship. I don't know. I just always thought I was so tough and that children's books were my only weakness, but when I was with Neji in the beginning, I was like this wispy little girl. I just swooned over everything he said and did, no questions asked. I was never that way with the other guys I liked. When I saw them, I wanted to fuck them silly, not want them to lovingly stroke my hair or weird things like that I thought with Neji.

Geez, I hate being a teenager. I just want to figure myself out already.

- Gaara Sabaku


	6. Entry 6

May 4th

I've finally given in. Not to Neji, but his letter from days ago. That lavender envelope that has been sitting on my desk this entire time untouched. It remained unmoved when I was throwing out his stuff, maybe as my mind's way of keeping a possession of his. The last piece of evidence that he had cared about me on a level that was on the line of tolerable and unbareable. And I've opened it.

A love letter as I expected, but it was a pretty anti-climatic build up for these past few days. I was hoping for something a little more major. Maybe he could have admitted the reason he was on those medications or let me in on some secret of something illegal he witnessed or been a part of or just something other than telling me about how my crimson hair was the sea he wants to delve in. How he wants to swim through the follicles in search for my mind, to discover and learn more about my unconscious self, those pieces of me I don't share with others, to understand me both in my mind and soul. And I know it sounds all disgustingly cheesy or a bit pretentious, but it's not. He's so fucking sincere when he says these sort of things that I can't even laugh. I fall into the feeling of them. It just feels like they those words were created by him just for me, our own little language.

...Is it still fucked up to miss him? Or is it just the love I miss? Right now, they're both indecipherable from one another, so they've melded into one formation. Without the other, it feels meaningless and incomplete. Like I'm feeling? I don't know. As I've said before, everything is screwed up. Left is right, down is up, and vertical is on a diagonal.

Still, I keep rereading over his words, hearing his soft voice in my head repeating them out loud. I can practically feel the touch of his hands roaming all over me, biting at my earlobe and cooing those sweet nothings. In my head, I'm allowing him to violate me despite our fall out. It's sickening. I'm almost embarrassed to allow such a thing occur, but what am I supposed to be doing now? I'm lost. I'm unfamiliar with normality. I only understand the fantasy realm revolving around the brown-haired devil.

This blog even. This isn't real. No matter how many thoughts of clarity I type down, I'm still lucid. This is all about Neji. This is nothing about my personal life or my friends or family, this is still about him. Every fucking entry from day one has been about him.

Be honest with me, readers. Am I becoming obsessed?

- Gaara Sabaku


	7. Entry 7

May 7th

When I opened up my locker two days ago, I saw my leather jacket hanging there like I walked into the school with it on. I didn't. I threw it away. I know this, you guys know this, but it was just hanging in there with no scratches or the spills from other junk I threw out that night. Perfectly clean like the day Neji bought it for me. I took it out and stuffed it into the nearest trash can in hopes of never seeing it again. (And it still smelt like Neji, even more so than before the disposal.)

That was the very start of my morning and it was way too fucking early in the morning for that shit. If you've been keeping up with my past entries, you should know that Neji has not spoken to me for the past few days. After the injuries he inflicted on me back in April, he's done a total 180 and been borderline ignoring my existence other than getting his book back from me. And it's been killing me.

I said it, I said it so many times how I wanted this space and when I get it... I just... I don't know.

So, my day went on as usual without my former lover, spending time with my friends, and heading home to change into my uniform for work. My mother drove me to work, I punch in, and head back to the children's section for the start of my day. If you think I'm about to type about Neji popping up like some deranged stalker, you're wrong. He rarely ever showed up to my job unless he desperately needed a certain book. That's why he would call and text me all the time, so he wouldn't be bothering me on my hours, if that makes any sense to you. I sat at my little table with my little chairs and began to read some of the newest children's books that came in to pass time. Seven hours flew by with the same normal routine of answering customers' questions and instructing them where this and this section is and all of my book recommendations. Sometimes work just wears me out.

My mom couldn't get me from work because she was running a late night shift (she works as a nurse, even more of a reason why she freaked when she saw my hand), Kankuro and Temari were out at a friend's party, and all there was left was the step-dad. Thanks, but no thanks. I preferred to just walk. So that's what I did. My feet were in so much freaking pain having to hoof it from uptown to downtown. All I could think was how bad I needed a foot massage. A massage with lavender oil, being fed candies, and complaining about the little things that nagged me by the end of the work day. Just like I did with Ne-

_Knock, knock-knock, knock, slap, knock-knock._

I screwed up. I screwed up bad.

The window in front of me creaked open. "Gaara?"

I don't know how to looked to Neji, but I was in full blown panic mode. Have you ever driven and suddenly realized you were at your destination without a single memory of the drive to? I guess that was what happened to me. I was so lost in my thoughts that my feet directed me to my usual after work stop before I went home. Since my mother was able to get me from work lately, I hadn't done it, but I wasn't focused on avoiding Neji during my walk. I thought about him pampering me and that was good of an enough reason for my feet to drag me there. And now, pale eyes bore into mine in curiosity of my appearance. What the hell was I supposed to say?

My eyes dropped down to his neck. The last time, there was what I thought was blood across it. It was perfectly normal now. A plain throat.

"Gaara?"

I looked to him, words jumping off my tongue with little thought. "Can I come in?"

His eyes widened along with mine, but he quickly stammered, "Y-Yeah, sure," and moved out of the way. Mistake Number Two.

I slinked into the room feet first through the small window, shimmying my small hips past the frame and landing feet first on a pile of pillows. Neji had them set up months ago just for me, in case I fell wrong, I wouldn't fall hard on his hardwood floor. He still hadn't cleaned them up. I kicked a purple pillow out of my way and looked around his bedroom. Unchanged. Art supplies spilling out of every cabinet, clothes hapzardly tossed into drawers, a large eisel with canvas in the corner of the room, and his tall bookcase overloaded with books. Piles of books were on top of the case, piles on the floor beside it. And of course, the bed I was very familiar with, sitting dead center in the room in front of me.

Neji stepped in front of me as my eyes roamed near the eisel, asking, "What?"

'What?' 'What?' indeed. I literally had no words to say. I had no reason to be at his house, _in his room_. I was there out of my own subconscious whims and had nothing to save my skin.

My silence must have irritated him as he rolled his eyes and turned his back to me. He made his way to the closet, yanking open a door. He reached in and pulled out a familiar jacket, holding it out towards me. A white, vegan leather jacket with a black painted zipper. The same fucking jacket I tossed that morning.

Rather than acknowledging my shock, he looked off and said, "I think you dropped this today."

I was frozen in place, eyes wide as saucers, unable to word my feelings. Are you fucking kidding?! I did not fucking 'drop' the jacket, I threw it away. I 'dropped' it into the trash can, where it belonged, where it should have stayed the first time I tossed it. However, this proved that Neji wasn't entirely ignoring me, he was just fucking stalking me! How else would he managed to get the jacket out of the trash to put into my locker the first time. And before you think that Neji broke into my locker, we know each others' combinations, that's it. Anyway, that also means he was somehow watching me in the morning when I threw it away at school. I have no idea when he had the time to dumpster dive for it, but was it worth the frustration he was causing me? Definitely not to me.

"I threw it away, fucking psycho," I told him, pushing the jacket away from me.

His eyes lit up, not happy with my response. "I'm not a psycho," he tried to calmly explain.

"Really!? Then how the hell do you explain getting it back _twice_?"

He ignored my question and stepped forward, pressing the jacket towards me, adamant on returning it to its former owner. "Keep it."

I looked at the white jacket against my chest. Its soft texture laying against the itchy jacket I've been wearing since we broke up. Style and comfort would be the only reasons I'd take it back, but I didn't want the secondary attachments that came with it. Memories, his scent, the fact that keeping it would remind me of being his for as long as I owned it. I wasn't his. I wasn't.

I shook my head, pushing the faux leather pelt away from me, where it should stay. I told him, "I don't want it."

He tried to do the same thing, telling me to keep it and I did the same thing, telling him I don't want it. After three more times, he shoved the jacket harder into my chest, almost tumbling me towards the wall. His jaw clenched, practically seething. "Take. The fucking. Jacket."

"Fuck that jacket," I replied, reclaiming my balance.

It was swiftly gone as I got pushed again, down into the pillows. The weight of Neji's body knocked the wind out of me, but I could still hear him say, "I bought it for you, okay?" His knee dug into my stomach to emphasize his point. "You _have_ to keep it," he said as I wheezed.

The weight of his body was nothing compared to the weight in my chest. Looking up to those hovering sharp eyes lit up thoughts I hated. Especially the ones that screamed how much I missed him, how I needed him. I wanted nothing more than him to lean down and capture me in his gentle embrace.

The hairs on my arm stood as he did lean in, but not for the reason I wanted. His hand slid down my wrist, grabbing a rough hold with his nails. He pressed his forehead into mine. His height bent his neck at a weird angle, but he still managed to get my eyes locked on his. Manic, crazed. His words echoed in my head. _Anything for you._

I watched his lips move, just barely able to make out the words.

Mistake Number Three. I refused.

* * *

I lied. Neji wasn't always gentle with me like I said. I know I told you about the way he grabbed my wrist over desserts, but there were other times I blocked out of my mind.

After work, I was supposed to go over to Neji's to watch a movie, but the boss had me stay later to do more work. I never had a chance though to contact him and tell him. I get to Neji's three hours late. I knocked on the window, ready to give my excuse and an apology, but instead, I was harshly yanked through the window by my arms, forearm sliced by the sharp wood frame. I even lost a shoe on the way in. I was dropped onto the floor, face barely missing the pillow pile.

As I tried to get up, I heard him say, "You're late."

"I'm so-" I get cut off.

"Three fucking hours!" He yells, almost scaring me. I've never heard him yell. He was always such a calm person, so this was new to me.

I get on my feet, lifting my arm up to inspect the stinging wound. Luckily it wasn't too big, but it was bleeding pretty heavy. Probably nicked a vein or artery. Neji looks at it and glares, bending over to pick up a random shirt. He throws it at me, saying, "Quit bleeding on my floor. It'll stain."

Once again, I didn't expect a reaction like that. When I get papercuts, he kisses the pain away. Why the hell was he acting like such a douche?

"What the hell's your problem?" I risk asking.

He storms up to almost immediately, shoving me down to the floor. I hit the wood hard, wondering why he didn't push me into the pillows. Or the question I should have been thinking, 'Why is he pushing me down in the first place? I haven't done anything.' His one hand crushes my shoulder against the floor, the other one traveling down to my wounded arm.

Some of his brown hair slipped from its ponytail. I could taste the ends on my lips. Oil, smelt like bergamot, Neji's second favorite scent. I smelt it a second time as a hand quickly lashed across my face. Before it registered, my hair is grabbed, my wound squeezed. My head is yanked in his direction, watching anger swirl in his face. His words are less human, saying something along the lines of, "When I say 'nine,' I fucking mean 'nine.'"

Something about the way he says it, or the way he looks, I find myself apologizing. I had a reason for it, a legitimate one, and yet I didn't say it. I don't want Neji mad at me. I didn't have to stay late. If I said 'no,' the boss would have asked another worker to stay late. I had plans and I said yes anyway, I was in the wrong. Neji was mad because I made a promise and I broke it.

His face immediately softened and let go of my arm and hair. He said, "I forgive you, but you shouldn't do something like this. I was worried about you." He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss. "So worried."

And the night moved on like it never happened. There were plenty of other times that I pretended never happened either. A shove into a brick wall when I giggled when he tripped with an apology given afterward. He pulled my hair in a store when I said I wanted a leather jacket instead of a faux leather one. In the end, I walked out with the white one, thanking Neji for choosing it. We got into a fight over a salesperson guy coming up to me, talking about clothes. Neji dragged me away from the guy and into the car. We parked somewhere away from other people and yelled at each other, mostly me not understanding why he was so angry. Jealousy, I asked. A slap across the face shut me up.

"He has nothing on me, you love _me_, right?"

Of course I did. All was forgiven, all was forgotten, then he treated me for some ice cream and french fries. Like nothing fucking happened.

Remember when I told you how deeply in love we were with each other? I couldn't pull logic out in those moments. As cheesy as it was, I was blinded by love. I honestly thought I deserved what I got and that I was the bad apple that Neji kept giving chances to. After the fight about the salesperson, I stopped hanging out with a lot of my friends. I mean, I was hardly spending time with them because they kept badmouthing Neji, but now I was spending almost all my time with Neji. He had a low self-esteem, I told myself. I didn't want him to feel jealous or feel like I might leave him for someone else. He needed me to make him happy and I was willing to do it at all costs. As long as I behaved well, we would work.

I don't remember when, but slowly, the love smog started to clear up. I was seeing things, I was realizing things, I was understanding this wasn't right. None of it. I wish I knew sooner though.

* * *

I felt numb, so fucking numb, like someone held ice to my heart, I just couldn't feel. I felt vibrations. Muscles throbbing and hands shaking. My fat, busted lip was trembling in the cold air. It was even a wonder that I was able to call Naruto to pick me up. I was just lying on a park bench at two in the morning. I was vulnerable. Any creep could have snuck up on me and had their way, but really, they'd just be having Neji's sloppy seconds.

I didn't have a long wait. Naruto's car pulled up with a loud screech, shouting, "Gaara!"

I couldn't call back, my throat seemed to close up on me now that someone was here. He coaxed me into the backseat to lay down, but I didn't want to. I did enough of that tonight.

* * *

I had the worst shower of my life. I watched different colored fluids circle down the drain. Red from the marks he left, white from...well, you know, and yellow, vomiting up my stress. I wished I was liquid. I wanted to go down that drain too.

* * *

I couldn't fall asleep at Naruto's. I kept thinking of what happened, repeating it over and over again in my head.

I was raped. It feels so stupid to type out because I keep thinking of those girls on Law and Order: SVU and suddenly I am one. I'm a character on the show, scarred by their attacker, physically and emotionally. Much like the episodes, it was done by someone I knew and trusted. And over and over and over in my head, I'm watching myself in his bed, enduring the blows and scratches and the dry thrusts, doing nothing. I stared at the ceiling, taking what I deserved. I made three mistakes that led to this, so it's on me.

I don't want to give gritty details, I don't want to alarm others or set off bad memories for anyone else. I don't even want to keep thinking about it, but I feel like I need to tell you guys something. Before anything happened, I did want Neji in that sort of way. That 'gentle embrace?' Yeah, that was the more poetic term for it, but I didn't want it like that. I didn't want to be beaten the way I was. Stripped of my clothes and dignity. I should have fought back, I should have. I couldn't. He literally beat my will to fight out of me. Neji was a feral creature, out for my blood, out for my flesh. Human versus beast, I was bound to lose regardless.

As the rounds grew calmer, gentler, I think I felt more disgusted. Groggily whispering romantic bullshit into my ear as if I could even hear. I felt the vibrations of his words, the heat of his breath, and nothing else. I was a lifeless sex doll, waiting to be tossed to the side. When I was, I laid still on the floor. Not a single thought, not a single feeling. I almost didn't even notice Neji left the room. I honestly don't know how I left his house and got to the park. Everything between then and Naruto's was a blur. I'm not sure I want to remember though.

* * *

I didn't tell Naruto that night, but I think he could tell. His mouth was gaped, eyebrows drooped, breathing as if he was going to cry when he first saw me. He said nothing and I'm glad for that. I didn't want to talk, I wanted somewhere safe to go, away from everything. My soon-to-be step-dad and brother, my plummeting grades, _especially_ him.

I skipped school the next day (yesterday) with Naruto and we worked on my homework I missed from the night before. Two hours before the time school would be out, I went home, curled up under the blankets, and cried my eyes out straight through. The overwhelming urge to do it didn't beckon me at Naruto's, but as soon as I got into my bed, it all unleashed. I sobbed and screamed and hated myself for it all. As ugly as it might have looked with my nose and tear ducts turned on like a faucet, I needed to let this out. It almost felt good to get it out, though it did nothing to remedy the facts: My ex-boyfriend has been abusing and stalking me for weeks now, a year if you count the in-relationship abuse and I hadn't let Neji go to the police. Did I finally reach the line to do it? To make him pay for the new wounds, the theft of my trust and self being?

I still haven't called the police. I haven't told my mom or my brother or anyone. Naruto's the only one and even he doesn't know exactly what happened. I'm not ready. I can't do it yet. Don't call me stupid or weak. I need time to heal and clear up my head. Until then, I may not come back here in a while. This blog is nothing but him. I'm sick of him. I'm sick of everything.

- Gaara Sabaku


End file.
